Stories From A Flat On Baker Street
by LunaIrenePond
Summary: A collection of one Sherlock BBC one shots. Some have been on here before, others are new. Each chapter starts with a description and what relationships are in it. Enjoy!
1. We Believe

_**A/N: John might just be surprised as to who else stands by him.(written before season 3)**_

Six months after the fall the world was changing their minds about Sherlock. John and Lestrade were at the forefront of the movement. Three months after the fall John and Lestrade were sent three cans of yellow spray paint each. So they did what anyone would do with spray paint. They made Mycroft watch the CCTV for any cops and they spray painted three messages all across London.

I believe in Sherlock Holmes.

Richard Brook was a fake.

Moriarty was real.

Two months after that John found a box on the doorstep of Baker Street. When he opened the box he found a note that read, "We believe in Sherlock Holmes." It then went on for twenty pages of signature after signature. There were thousands, John couldn't believe his eyes. Underneath the signatures were four t-shirts one said, "I am Sherlocked," another says "I believe in Sherlock," a third said, "Get Sherlock, #moriartywasreal," the last one read, "I am fighting John Watson's war." Then at the very bottom of the box, underneath all of the shirts was a note that read, "Check what's trending on twitter." So that's what John did and what he found made him almost fall out of his chair. It was all things supporting him and Sherlock, not one thing was negative. It seemed, to John, that the whole word really did believe in Sherlock Holmes.


	2. Two Hearts

_**A/N: My little sister wrote this last summer, have fun.**_

Sherlock Holmes had two hearts. That was how he survived the fall. When he fell and hit the ground he lost one of his hearts, its name was John Watson. Remember that smile before he fell? He was thinking how it was going to work; he falls, dies for a while, and then he would wake up in a hospital bed. Yet his heart was still wondering around London.


	3. Shooting The Wall

_**A/N: this was a product of my girlfriend and I rping for an hour, enjoy. Molly/Sherlock have a daughter.**_

Joan had a gun and was bored. So in traditional Holmes fashion, the wall got a beating. "Joan Emma Holmes, what the hell are you doing?!"

"Bored," she said lying on her bed with blue jeans and a sweet shirt on. "That's no reason to shoot the wall," said her mother grabbing the gun out of her hand.

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't. Where the hell did you get that gun anyway?" her mother asked as she walked out to the kitchen to put it up, Joan followed her.

"Irrelevant," said Joan slumping into one of the kitchen chairs.

"No it is very relevant. I hid that thing years ago," then after a pause her mother added. "You're just like your father."

Joan jumped up, "Don't you dare bring my father into this!"

"Why shouldn't I?" shouted back her mother, "You grow more and more like your father every day. I'm beginning to think we should have names you Shirley."

Joan stormed off and slammed the door to her room.

"You come back out here young lady!" her mother stormed over and was banging on her door.

"No I am not coming out! You can shout and bang on the door all you want," was the response from inside.

"How about I open the door?"

"Shit," was the response as Joan ran to look her door.

"Watch your mouth young lady!" her mother had opened the door before Joan could get to it.

Joan crossed her arms and stormed off to her bed. "That's impossible, I cannot watch my mouth," she protested.

"Well you can wash it out with soap then," after her mother had calmed down a little she asked. "Why don't you like your father any way?"

"It's not that I don't like him, he just gets on my nerves allot," said Joan calming down slightly.

"He's your father and that's him job, and anyway he's gotten on people's nerves since he was born."

"Yeah, he can be quite an arse at times."

"Yeah, well we're family, we have to humor him," said her mother as she stood up," Speaking of which I think he's home."

"Speak of the devil and he will appear," Joan said rolling her eyes.

"Joan, watch your mouth!" snapped her mother, "Even if it is true."

"Yeah whatever… mother," Joan sneered and laid face down on her bed and sulked.

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me."

Joan motioned towards the door, "Get out."

"This isn't your house," said her mother standing in the doorway

"Get out!" Joan yelled pointing at the door.

"Fine," her mother pouted. "But you won't get any dinner."

Just as she shut the door Joan yelled, "Da! Mom's being mean to me again!"

"Molly, be nice to Joan. Joan, listen to your mother," was the response from down stars.

"Yeah mum," shouted Joan. "Listen to your husband."

"Joan stop being a smart ass," shouted Sherlock up to his daughter.

"I'm your daughter I can't just stop!"

"You're only half me, so you have the ability!" Molly was now trying very hard not to laugh.

"Yes but I don't feel like it!"

"Come on you are named after John, surely you can show some self-discipline."

"I don't care! That doesn't mean anything!"

"Does too!"

"Shut up!"

"Don't you dare tell your father to shut up," shouted Molly. "Go your room!"

"I am in my room!" Joan shouted back.

"Well then don't come out!"

"You know what?" shouted Joan as she stormed out of her room and down the stairs, "I am coming out!"

Molly stared at her dumb founded, "Why did you do that?"

"Because you told me not too, obviously," Joan said crossing her arms.

"Why do you have to be a Holmes?"

"Why did you marry a Holmes, if you didn't want a Holmes daughter?"

Because I was a stupid fangirl!" now it was Sherlock's turn to try not to laugh. "Now go to bed!"

"I'm not tired you go to bed!" said Joan sticking out her tongue.

"Joan listed to your mother," said Sherlock, rather failing to hold back a smile.

"Fine," said Joan storming off to her room. But not before she saw her mother take a playful swing at Sherlock.


	4. The Empty John

_**A/N: This is my version of the Empty House/Hearse. Becomes John/Sherlock, past Mary/John.**_

John was bored. No, John was worse, he was empty without Sherlock. Every day was the same. Every day at 8:00 John hailed a cab and went to the clinic where he worked. He never got a text to meet his best friend to go running through the city after some serial killer, but John had come to terms with that. John worked every day except for Sundays. On Sundays John went to church. Church, that was a revelation, John had never gone before the fall, now he was a regular attendee. John was struck in the same loop week after week for three years. But one day that loop stopped. It was in the spring of the third year. John was walking home from a crime scene where he had been helping Lestrade with a case. When he stopped and noticed a new book store on the corner of baker Street. So, he popped in for a quick look.

The first thing that stuck him odd was the fact that there was a whole stand devoted to bees. But then John saw the man who was sitting behind the desk. He was tall, had a smooth shave, his cheek bones were high, and he looked so much like Sherlock, but his hair was shorter and blond.

So, John took a chance and got a random mystery book slapped a post-it not on it that read, "You little shit," on it and went to check out.

The cashier smiled as he read the post-it and said, "I like this one too, John."

John looked him square in the eye, "Why?"

"Because you were in danger, Moriarty's men were going to kill you if I didn't jump and I needed to stay away to clean up the mess that was left."

"So did you clean it up?"

"Yeah, well, almost, the reason I'm back in London is because of Moran. My brother caught sight of him on the Chunnel so I followed and that sniper case you were just on with Lestrade."

"It was him wasn't it?"

"Yes," the taller man sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "John, I'm going to need your help again."

"I'm always happy to help, Sherlock."

He smiled, "Well then what are we waiting for? Let's go back to Baker Street."

"I couldn't agree more." John and Sherlock then walked hand in hand out of the book store and back to the flat. On the way Sherlock told John fantastic stories of murderers and mayhem, most of it John took with a grain of salt. He had always been prone to dramatics.

"How is Mary?" Sherlock asked eventually.

"She's… she's gone." John said tuning out.

"Oh," Sherlock said simply. "I just thought, well I don't know what I thought, you're still wearing your ring."

"Yes, I couldn't find the heart to take it off."

"When did it happen?"

"A few months after you left."

"Oh," Sherlock stared at the ground at his feet as they stood in front of the flat. Neither felt okay enough to walk in. "I'm sorry."

"It's wasn't your fault," John sighed. "Come on," he reached over and unlocked the door. "Mrs. Hudson?"

"Yes dear?" came the reply from her rooms down stairs.

John led Sherlock into Mrs. Hudson's kitchen, "Hello." Sherlock said meekly.

She jumped at the voice, "What? Sherlock, is that you?"

"Yeah…."

"Well, sit down and tell me what happened. You look like you need a good cuppa." She shoved him into a chair at the kitchen table and slammed a mug down in front of him.

Sherlock then dived into his recap of everything, pausing every now and then to take a sip of the tea.

"So what are we going to do?" She asked once Sherlock seemed like he was finished.

"Well, Moran is set up in the empty house across the street from us and I have reliable accounts that he is going to try and kill me tonight. Because of course he knows that I am back in London. So we are going to set up a trap."

Later that night everything was set in motion. John and Sherlock snuck to the house across the street while Mrs. Hudson sat with a dummy in Baker Street, making sure that it looked believably like Sherlock was still there. As John entered the building he believed it to be truly empty, until Sherlock waved him up to the third floor where there was the flicker of a flashlight. As they opened the door, both of them with their gun's raised they were met with the sight of a man in his mid 30s with a gun set up and aimed at their flat. "I would put that away if I were you," Sherlock said to the sniper.

"Ah, Sherlock, I thought you were taller," the man smirked as he turned to look at the taller one.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," Moran said as he minutely flicked his wrist and Sherlock doubled over holding his stomach. Before John knew what he was doing his gun went off and Moran was collapsed on the floor with a bullet in his shoulder. "You missed," he spat.

"That was the point. Give me any more trouble and I won't miss next time." John didn't what to turn his back on the man but he had to in order to address the knife in Sherlock's gut. "Hey, Sherlock, look at me okay?" John said gently as he tried to pry Sherlock's hand away from the knife.

Sherlock slowly looked up.

"I have to pull the knife out," John informed him as he took the handle in his hand, it was slick with blood. Sherlock screamed as it was pulled out and Moran started to cackle. John put another bullet into him, this time in his leg.

"What the hell man?!"

"You stab my friend; I shoot you, now shut up."

The ambulance and police cars came after five more minutes of John talking mindlessly to Sherlock as he kept his hand pressed to Sherlock's stomach making sure he wouldn't die of blood loss. John spent the rest of the night with Sherlock, who was released in the morning. The first thing that he did when Sherlock finally stepped into Baker Street for good was to slam the other man against the wall and snogged him senseless. As he stepped away and walked up the stairs he called back to the taller man, "Never, do that to me again."


	5. A Broken Mug

_**A/N: I pretty much make Sherlock/John happen right after "A Study in Pink."**_

John stumbled into Baker Street behind Sherlock around midnight, they were full on Chinese food and so tired from running around London they couldn't walk straight. John collapsed on the sofa, once they had climbed all the stairs to their flat, trying very hard to remember the events of the night. "Sherlock," he murmured as he ran a hand through his own hair. "You said girlfriends weren't really your area."

"Good observation," the other man smirked as he flopped into his chair by the fireplace. "You should also notice that I said I was married to my work."

"Lots of people have affairs," he said jokingly.

"They sure do," Sherlock laughed as he walked to the kitchen. "Do you want some tea?"

"Yeah," John stood up and walking over to where the other man was standing.

Sherlock handed John what looked suspiciously like one of Mrs. Hudson's mugs full of tea, "here."

"Thanks," he said taking a sip. "This is good."

"Really?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, why are you surprised? You didn't poison it did you?"

The taller man laughed, "No. Why would I ever do that?"

"You did track down a killer and almost kill yourself today."

"Well you shot him," he smirked.

John was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing; Sherlock was leaning against the counter as John was leaning against the island across from him. "So is this going to be the norm?"

"Is what going to be the norm?"

"This," John gestured to the two of them. "Are we going to go chase down murders just to come back to our flat and drink tea"

Sherlock looked at him with a questioning stare, "You sound disappointed."

"I am not," John said going into defense mode.

"Really?" Sherlock set his mug on the counter and took a step closer to the other man.

"Well maybe a little," John admitted as he noted how well Sherlock's shirt fit him across the chest.

Sherlock took John's chin in his hand and tilted it up so he could look him in the eye. He then with one quick movement closed the distance between their lips. John dropped his mug in surprise, tea splashed everywhere. "Just leave it," Sherlock mumbled into John's mouth. "We can clean it up in the morning." What followed was a night that John would never forget. They ended up in Sherlock's bed, it was the bigger of the two and they were too lazy to go anywhere but down the hall. As John laid down on his back smiling the younger man curled up into his side.

"Sherlock?" John muttered.

"Yes."

"Mrs. Hudson is going to have a fit about that mug."

Sherlock chuckled, "Yeah…" The two of them then slipped into the deepest sleep that John had had in years.

John woke up around two into the afternoon, he was surprised to find himself in Sherlock's bed, that was until the events of the night slowly came back to him and he smiled stupidly to himself, he didn't see how they could go back to any type of friendship after that. He sighed as he finally pulled himself out of bed and wondered down the hallway where he found Sherlock playing his violin with his back turned.

"Hello John," he said without turning from the window.

"Morning," John yawned rubbing his eyes.

"Mrs. Hudson came up around eleven and cleaned up the tea."

"What did she say about it?" John asked as he leaned against the door frame.

"It's coming out of our rent and that we can't borrow anymore things from her."

John chuckled, "I don't blame her."

"What are we going to do?" Sherlock asked as he turned to face John. There were a line of bruises that had formed on his neck and shoulder from the events of the night before, they disappeared under his shirt collar, and John couldn't help but smirk.

"About what, last night?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Well we can act like nothing happened or," John suggested walking up to the taller man. "We can always see what follows."

"Well, I certainly don't want that to have been nothing." Sherlock smiled as he carefully set his violin down and wrapped his arms around John's waist.

John just smiled and buried his face into Sherlock's shoulder, "Me neither."


	6. A Broken Couple

_**A/N: Molly's parents are dead so Sherlock goes to her to help her deal with the loss. It's Molly/Sherlock.**_

John was tired of Sherlock's destruction of the flat, so he sent him to St. Bart's to do whatever research he was doing for the most recent case. Sherlock was completely fine with this, he was looking forward to it in fact, and it was nice to work with someone who understood what he was doing.

"Hello, you must be Sherlock," said a strong built brunette who had just walked in. "Molly told me about you."

"Yes, and you are?" Sherlock asked while deducing her. She worked here, usually the night shift, she had a younger sister who worked at the food court in the hospital and shared a flat a couple blocks away so they could walk to work.

"Oh, my name is Lizzie," she said extending her hand. "I'm new here."

"I gathered as much," Sherlock said shaking her hand. "Where is Molly?"

"Oh, her parents died last night in a car crash, so she took the day off," Lizzie said as she headed out of the lab. "Are you two a thing?"

"No, well," said Sherlock thinking about it, "I don't really know."

Lizzie chuckled and remarked, "Look at that, the famous Sherlock Holmes doesn't know how he feels about a girl." With that she left.

Sherlock waited till she was really gone to text Molly, "You okay? SH."

He didn't have to wait long before he got a response, "No."

"I'll be right over," Sherlock texted back. He grabbed his coat and scarf and flew out of St. Bart's to hail a cab. Molly had helped Sherlock out during the fall and Sherlock would never stop trying to repay her for that. The cab dropped Sherlock off in front of Molly's flat and Sherlock let himself in with the key he had gotten a few years ago. "Oh, Molly what have you done?" Sherlock wondered when he saw her. Molly Hooper was sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of wine that was a quarter of the way gone.

"Hey, Sherlock," Molly said when she saw him. "You know you didn't have to come, right?"

"Nonsense, I always have to come," Sherlock said sitting down across the table from her and took a sip of the wine.

"I don't want you to see me like this," Molly said taking a swig out of the bottle.

"You saw me when no one else could, so," Sherlock said steeling the bottle and taking a swig himself. "You really don't get a say in it."

"I know just, why? Why did they die? I, just, grrrr, they're gone," Molly took another swig.

"It'll be okay," Sherlock said.

"No it won't, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, and I barely have any friends," Molly was pretty drunk by this point.

"You have me," Sherlock said finishing up the wine.

"I know," said Molly swaying.

"Molly, why don't you come sit on the sofa," Sherlock offered trying to make sure she didn't hurt herself. Molly stumbled towards the sofa with a bit of Sherlock's help.

"Sherlock," Molly said snuggling up next to Sherlock.

"Yeah, Molly?"

"Thank you," Molly slurred looking up to Sherlock with her big brown eyes.

"For what?"

"For always being there for me," Molly said kissing him on the cheek.

"Now there you are wrong," Sherlock said. "It has been you, my dear, who has always been there for me." Sherlock returned the kiss to her.

"Sherlock, I love you," Molly kissed him again.

"I love you too, Molly," they kissed once more only this time on the lips. They continued to kiss and snuggle on the couch for a couple more hours until the both drifted into the dark void of a drunken sleep. Just two broken people who had tried to piece each other back together.


	7. Greasers And Journals

_**A/N: Reverse Greaserlock time and asexual homoromantic Sherlock so buckle up and enjoy the ride. Please comment if you would like a second part.**_

Sherlock was honest to god actually trying to pay attention. It was science, the only subject he ever worried about. But there was a new kid, John Watson, all the girls were drooling over him and Sherlock couldn't help but notice why. The boy had walked into fourth block like he owned the place, five minutes after the bell, his blond hair greased back, a black comb sticking out of his back pocket in his too tight jeans, and the sleeves of his white t-shirt were rolled up with a pack of cigarettes stuck in them. Mr. Haynes has almost lost his shit when he saw the kid. Sherlock could tell that he immediately thought that John was a public menace. So of course the teacher sat him by Sherlock. He was trying so hard not to notice the tattoo that went up John's right shoulder or the faint smell of smoke that stuck to John's shirt. Sherlock barley got through the class.

Later after school while Sherlock was trying to get to the busses he heard some guy call his name from behind, "Hey, Sherlock."

He spun on the spot to find the guy, John, from his science class leaning against a beautiful convertible with the roof pulled up and flipping through a journal that Sherlock found oddly familiar.

"You dropped this in class," John explained as Sherlock walked towards him. "I took the liberty of flipping through it; it's all above my head."

"That's no surprise," he smirked. "Can you give it back?"

"Yeah I can, but I want you to explain them too me."

"Why?" Sherlock asked confused, no one had ever cared before, so why should this greaser.

"Because you're hot, smart, and life is short." John smirked as he reached inside his convertible and unlocked the door.

"Asdfghjkl;" Sherlock sputtered. "I'm going to miss my bus."

"Let me give you a ride to my place and you can explain your theories to me and I can eventually drive you home."

Sherlock walked over to the other side of the car but before he got in he asked, "This is the only way I'm going to get my book back isn't it?"

"Yep," John smirked as the taller boy slid into the seat next to him. He leaned over and quickly kissed the other guy before putting the car into gear and driving away from the school.

Sherlock glanced over at the guy sitting next to him hoping he wasn't blushing and that his voice came out steady, "Why did you do that?" there was a god, his voice had been normal.

"Because life is short and you are hot, honestly Sher, can I call you Sher? Get with the program," John said as he quickly glanced over at the dark-haired boy. "Now, your theories, explain."

"Uh, I, it's, their, just," Sherlock stammered. Honestly this guy was going to be the death of him; he was the only person who could catch him off guard. And it seemed like he was going to be doing it 24/7. "Some of them are about which drug brings in more money for the dealer, Cocaine or Heroin others are about atomic principles. It's all over the place."

"So which is it, Cocaine or Heroin? Which atomic principles? Come on, Sher, work with me, love." John turned to stare at the other boy, maneuvering the car smoothly with one hand. "I'm truly interested in what you have to say."

Sherlock stared at him blankly, "Why? Why do you care? No one ever cares what I have to say. As soon as I say something that isn't obvious to everyone they look at me like I'm crazy. Like take you for instance, you're dad's dead and your brother's an alcoholic and dating a cheerleader." He caught himself before he went any further. The look on john's face said that he had once again gone too far.

John's mouth fell open as he sputtered, "How do you know that?" he jerkily turned into the drive way of his house. "Never mind that, don't answer that, that's beside the point." He pulled the keys out of the ignition and threw them into the cup holder, fixing Sherlock with a hurt gaze. "Everyone matters, Sher. Even you."

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock said as he stared at his hands in his lap not quite sure what to do. John looked so upset. He wanted to do everything he could to fix that. "I'm sorry."

John continued to stare at him. "How did you know that? I've never told anyone about my dad, ever."

"You smell of machoness," Sherlock smirked.

"I'm pretty sure you can't smell that," John started to smile again.

He was starting to become more comfortable around the other guy, "It totally does, it even has a taste." Sherlock smirked as he leaned over to kiss John, this time of his own accord.

John grinned as they parted, "What does it taste like, if I may ask?"

"Cheep beer and quick smokes."

The older boy looked away thoughtfully, "hm… a cheap beer and smoke sounds good right now. Come on let's get out of this car," he popped open the car door and raced to the other side of the car to open Sherlock's door. "Now those theories. You never really answered any of my questions."

Sherlock laughed as he got out of the car and leaned against the door, "Heroin, heroin gets you the most money as a dealer."

"Interesting, and you figured this out how? You don't seem like the dealer type." John said sizing Sherlock up. "You look like the addict," he added cautiously.

He paused before answering, "I'm clean, and what would you know about addicts?"

John looked at his house and began walking towards it with his hands in his back pocket, "more that you know." He whispered under his breath. Once he reached to open the door he turned around to Sherlock, "Well, aren't you coming?"

"Um, yeah," he said following. The house wasn't much and boxes were pilled everywhere.

John lead Sherlock into the living room as he dug into his pocket for a cigarette lighter as Sherlock sat down on the couch. He lit one and offered another to Sherlock, "You want one?"

"I- no, that's alright. I'll pass," Sherlock stuttered shifting around on the couch uncomfortably. "I haven't smoked one in years."

"You're clean and you don't smoke? What next, you don't drink?" John could see that the other guy was uncomfortable. But honestly he had to know what was up."

"Alcohol is bad for my thought processing. It slows me down and fogs up my senses." Sherlock automatically said in a monotone voice void of any emotions.

"And drugs don't?" that caught John by surprise. He caught himself as he started to edge closer to the other boy. He didn't want him to stop talking.

"Like I said, John, I'm clean," Sherlock said enunciating every word. "But, no. Drugs made me- the made me feel, more alive." He noticed john edging closer to him, but didn't comment or make any effort to stop him.

"There are more things that can make you feel alive than just drugs," John said putting his arm over the back of the couch as he took a long drag from the cigarette.

"Like what? Sex?" Sherlock asked with a touch of amusement in his voice. "Not really my area." He stared at John as the smoke left his mouth in little puffs.

"Hm..." John said thinking. He had caught him off guard. "It honestly doesn't have to be. What is your area then?"

Sherlock chuckled with amusement. "Now what's the fun in just telling you? How about you deduce it?" he plucked the cigarette from John's hand and brought it to his lips.

"Well… You seem to have no problems about kissing, so maybe sex is the only thing you're not too crazy about." John took out a new cigarette after noticing that the first one was going quickly. "And I haven't been around you long enough to figure out if you are into just guys so… There's that."

"Are you into guys, John Watson?" Sherlock asked suddenly, his eyes lighting up as he took another drag of the cigarette flicking the ash into an ashtray on the coffee table in front of them, never taking his eyes off John.

"We've snogged twice so I'd say yes. What happened to deductions? Now if you're asking if I just like guys that would be another story." John was starting to notice just how well Sherlock's t-shirt actually fit him.

"Well I wouldn't consider it snogging more like love taps. The hell with deductions I wanted to hear you say it out loud," Sherlock said with a smirk. He smashed the cigarette into the ashtray and turned to see John staring at him, "Yes?"

"You're just really hot," he smiled

"I'm really not."

"Well you are for a nerd," he smirked brushing their lips together. Forgetting the cigarette in his hand until it dropped ash on his hand, "Shit!" John shouted as he broke away from Sherlock and slamming the offending cigarette into the ashtray.

"I prefer the term High functioning sociopath if I do say so myself," Sherlock chuckled at john's shout. "Well that was a waste of a perfectly good cigarette

"You're a nerd either way. Shut up and come here," John said grabbing the other guy's waist with one hand and brining him even closer while running his other hand through Sherlock's dark black curls that fell everywhere.

Sherlock made a noise that vaguely sounded like purring. "I'll shut up now." He wrapped his arms around John's neck and touched their noses together.

"Good," John angled his face so that their lips met. As their kiss deepened John moved his hand down and wrapped his arm around Sherlock's hip to pull him in as close as possible so that Sherlock ended up sitting in his lap. John couldn't help but whimper a bit when Sherlock started to bite his lower lip. "Out of curiosity, how often do you do this?" he asked shakily

"By this you mean go over to a stranger's house and snog on their living room couch, right? Never." Sherlock whispered in between kissing John. He began to nibble at the other boy's lower lip wanting to hear him whimper again

"I'm totally not a stranger, you met me this morning." John laughed in between kissing Sherlock. Once their lips met again John started to mess with the end of Sherlock's t-shirt, he wasn't quite sure if he wanted it off or not.

Sherlock grinned as he broke away from John and pulled off his shirt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. "There, that better?"

"A bit yeah," John stared at Sherlock's pale chest in front of him. "How the hell do you have a nerdy reputation at that school?" John asked right before he brought their lips together again.

"I honestly don't care what others think of me." He continued kissing john, and began to pull off the others leather jacket.

"You still haven't answered my question from before," john smirked as he helped get the jacket off. "Come on, Sher, you seem like an experienced guy. Please share with the class why that is."

"I'm sorry Mr. Watson, I don't share personal experience with the class," Sherlock smiled mysteriously looking down at John. "What about you Johnny boy? Have you had an experience with a guy?"

"Well…" John said as he ran his hand through Sherlock's hair, "There have been a couple guys…"

Sherlock closed his eyes and relished the feeling of John playing with his hair. "Hm I thought so."

"But they weren't as great as you love," John chuckled as he twirled one of Sherlock's curls around his finger.

Sherlock smiled at John's words. He opens his eyes and watched John twirl his hair. "Are you having fun?"

"A bit yeah." John smiled. "And you sure you're not going to tell me about past experiences?"

"Why do you want to know?" Sherlock pushed himself off John's lap. "I don't understand."

"I'm sorry, Sher," john said trying to backtrack. "I really am. I'm just curious."

He looked away from John and mumbled softly, "I haven't had any experiences with another guy." His face flushed pink with embarrassment.

"Well then you're a natural," John said as he wrapped his arms around the other once more.

His face turned a darker shade of pink, "That or I researched about these types of relationships…" he mumbled some more, looking into John's eyes.

John kissed Sherlock's neck, "Well then it paid off, you're cute." He added as an afterthought.

Sherlock let out a groan, "Well, you certainly know what you're doing." He nuzzled into John's neck and began to nibble at one of his ears. "You're absolutely adorable."

"I feel personally offended that I'm the first guy you've been with." John said as he traced Sherlock's spine on his bare back.

Sherlock shuddered at the touch. "I- you- shouldn't- why are you offended?" He stuttered slightly as he tried to get his breathing back to normal.

"I'm offended," John chuckled at Sherlock's reaction, "Because the world needs to notice how much of a catch you are."

"I'd rather not have people notice me." He whispered after closing his eyes and leaning against John's shoulder.

"Well then that's fine too," John said kissing Sherlock on the head. Just then the door slammed and John threw Sherlock off of him, "Fuck, it's my mom." The two of them scrambled to replace clothing to their original places.

"Shit, shit, shit," Sherlock said as he scrambled to put his t-shirt on. "What time was your mum supposed to be home?"

"She was supposed to get home at," John started to say glancing at the clock on the wall, "five. Fuck, it's five. Fuck you've been here for two and a half hours."

"Did I just hear cursing, John Hamish Watson?!" yelled a voice from the front door.

Sherlock looked over at John and mouthed, "Hamish, really?" He moved over to the other end of the couch ruffling his hair and fixing his t-shirt.

"It's a family name," John mumbled. "Hey ma'," he shifted his attention to his mom who had just walked in to find two boys on extreme opposite ends of the couch.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Watson, I'm Sherlock. One of John's friends," Sherlock said politely. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Well that was quick," John's mom laughed. "Usually he picks up friends after a few weeks, and he never brings them home." She turned and went into the kitchen, "Have fun you two."

Sherlock cocked his head, "Well that was odd." He inched back closer to John.

"Shut it," John said pointedly. "Come on, you should be getting home…" John stood up.

Sherlock made no move to get up. "Why?"

"Because my mom is home and that's weird," John said standing in front of him.

Sherlock groaned in annoyance and grabbed John's arm to hoist himself up. "Fine, but I don't want to go home."

"Okay," John said lightly kissing him. "But we are not staying here."

"Should you be kissing me with your mum in the house?" He whispered softly following John out of the door.

"Probably not," John smirked stepping into the car. "But come on, Sher, slide over." The younger boy was trying to sit on the complete other side of the car.

"Your mother could be watching," Sherlock said sharply. "I'd rather her not have a bad impression of me." He slid a little closer to John anyway. "Where are we going?"

John pulled Sherlock over by his waist so that the two of them were sitting with their legs touching. "Where do you want to go?" He said putting the car in gear.

"Like this is safe," Sherlock muttered under his breath. "You're the one driving, pick a place.

"You'll be fine," John laughed. "I know how to get to two places, my house and the school.

"And you say I'm the nerd," Sherlock chuckled. "I know this nice park we could go to. If you don't mind being outdoors, but if you do I suppose we could go to my house…"

"There are people in the park, whose home at your house?" John hated people all he really wanted to do was talk to Sherlock with him as relaxed as he was at John's house.

"Just me, my brother is off at college and my parents are both on a business trip in Switzerland." Sherlock said quietly. "Mycroft will somehow find out and tease me about finally finding an interest in someone. He loves making fun of me."

"Your house sounds the best. "John smiled. "And hey, I have no issues with beating up older brothers."

Once they pulled into the driveway Sherlock laid down in the front seat and put his head in John's lap. "Mycroft will tease me about having a boyfriend, they neighbors are probably spies for him." He sighed looking up at John.

"Like I said, I'll beat him up if he gets too bad."

"Okay," Sherlock said unsurely. "Do we have to actually go inside the house?"

"Not if you don't want to…" John said as he traced the other boy's cheekbones with his finger. "I have a whole backseat."

Sherlock shivered a bit as John touched him. "Maybe we should go inside," he whispered as he started to get up and reach for the door.

"You sure?" John asked. Not wanting to push him either way.

"A bed would be more comfortable then the back seat of a car, don't you think?" He said cheekily opening up the door.

"Yeah, yeah it would." John said turning off the engine and jumping out of the car.

Sherlock led John through the door and up the stairs to a gray room. He flopped on the bed and muttered something incoherent into a pillow.

"What was that, love?" John asked sitting down next to him on the bed and gently poking his side

He squeaked and lifted his head and muttered, "I said, I've never had another guy in my room besides Mycroft."

"That's depressing," John said shaking his head. "Wait. Are you ticklish?"

"I'm not usually particularly fond of people," he grumbled. "No… absolutely not," Sherlock said as he attempted to scoot to the far corner of the bed.

"You seemed pretty fond of me," John said sliding across the bed towards him.

"Hence the term usually," Sherlock said as he watched John move towards him, "you're different."

"How so?" John asked as he wrapped his arm around Sherlock's shoulders.

"I'm still working on that,"

"Tell me when you figure that out then," John muttered into the younger boy's hair.

"Oh I will," Sherlock curled back up into John's lap and started to run his hands through the other's greasy hair. "You should wash that grease out."

John smirked looking up at Sherlock, "You want to help?"

"Hm, I'm not sure," Sherlock said playfully.

"You can help me get undressed, it's hard work," John smiled.

"I'm sure you can manage,"

"I don't understand you, Sherlock Holmes."

"Good."

"Where's your bathroom?"

"Through that door."

John playfully tugged Sherlock to the door, "Come on then."

The two of them stumbled into the bathroom. Sherlock sat on the counter as John tugged his own shirt and pants off and got in. "You coming?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Okay," John tugged the curtain shut. "No peaking,"

"You're such a child," Sherlock laughed.

"Look who's talking," John shouted over the rush of water.

"Hey,"

"What? It's true."

Sherlock didn't talk for the rest of John's shower. Once the water turned off he heard John asked, "Can you throw me a towel."

Sherlock grabbed one and tossed it over the top of the curtain.

"So you didn't leave," John said as he pushed the curtain aside and walked towards the other guy, his towel was barely hanging onto his hip.

Sherlock shook his head.

"Are you going to talk to me?" he asked wrapping his arms around the younger boy and pulling him off the counter and towards him.

He just shook his head again.

"Jerk," John complained as he walked over to the other's bed and flopped down into it. A few minutes later he felt the bed give a little next to him as the younger boy climbed in. "Hello Sher."

Sherlock responded by curling his arms around his John and burying his face into John's back.

John turned around to pull the other in closer, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sherlock muttered.

"So you can speak," John chuckled.

Sherlock started too nimble on John's shoulder. "I love you,"

"I love you too, Sher." The rest of the night became the two of them exploring each other more gently and slower than earlier in the day. Sherlock traced patterns on John's muscled back as John peppered his face with kisses. After a while they got slower and their kisses sloppier.

"We have school in the morning," Sherlock whispered.

"Yeah that's not going to be fun," John smiled.

"One of us should hit the lights."

"But the bed's warm,"

"Wimp,"

"Fine, I got it," John grumbled as he climbed out of bed and readjusted the towel that was still wrapped around him. As he got back in the bed he muttered, "You were wrong."

"About what?"

"I don't have a brother, I have a sister."


	8. Words Will Always Hurt Me

_**A/N: This is a rather angsty one, Sherlock self harms, it's femlock and femjohn, and there is some johnlock at the end. Also if it helps any I imagined them in their 20s when I wrote this.**_

Joanna and Sherlock had been living together for over a year but it had never been anything but platonic. Much to, well, everyone's, really, dismay. Joanna had just gotten back from a rather weird date; the man had had to run off with his friend after the first round of drinks. Joanna was certain the two of them were shagging. But in any case she had found herself back in the flat when she heard a sobbing sound come from the bathroom. She cautiously knocked on the door, "Sherlock, are you okay?"

"You should be on your date," she noted from the other side.

"Yeah, well, he got preoccupied by his friend."

She heard something between a laugh and a sob in response.

She then tried the door, which was locked. "Sherlock, could you open the door?"

"You're not going to like what you fine," she muttered.

"I don't care, just please let me in."

Sherlock reached up and undid the lock. What Joanna found was not a pretty sight. Sherlock was sitting on the cover to the toilet with blood running down both her arms, a razor in one hand, and her long black hair was covering most of her face but from what she could see it looked like it was streaked with tears. Joanna rushed up to her and grabbed her hand half to comfort her and half to take the blade away. "I told you that you wouldn't like it."

"Oh sweetie what happened to you?"

"Life," came the bitter laugh in response.

Joanna got up to get some bandages, "What did life do?"

Sherlock tilted her head and looked up at the other girl her hair fell back from her eyes, "It gave me this brain that I can do glorious things with but when I do all that happens is people run away. It then gave me you but it didn't. Then it had to go even farther and give me assholes who just point out my failings at being human."

Joanna had started to clean the cuts and once Sherlock fell silent she asked, "How do you mean?"

"Well you're here and you care about me, but you are also always running off with some guy and I am left here," Sherlock started sobbing again. "I know I am acting like a teenage girl but I want you Joanna."

"Oh," was all she could say as she looked up at the other girl's face.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I just, I'll go to my room," Sherlock stood up and stumbled out the other door and into her room.

Jane waited a few minutes before following her into the pitch black room. She started to talk towards the window on the opposite wall from where Sherlock was laying in her bed, "You know the first thing you told me was that you were married to your work?"

"I was, I didn't know if you were going to stay or not."

Joanna laughed, "You were buying me food. How could I say no to that?" her tone shifted as she turned around to look at Sherlock curled up in her bed practically holding onto her pillow for dear life. "Sher, I practically asked if you were single."

"I know," she said quietly. "You just started to date all those guys so I thought maybe I had deduced you wrong and you didn't like girls after all."

"Oh, Sher," Joanna climbed into the bed next to her and wrapped her arms around her waist. "Hey, look at me. I thought you weren't this thin."

"I'm fine," Sherlock mumbled into Joanna's coat.

"No you're not, how much have you eaten today?" Joanna had gone into worried doctor mode.

"I don't remember. I must have deleted it."

"Never delete that. Do you understand? You have to eat."

"I will," she said right before she started to kiss the other girl. "Thank you," she barely whispered into Joanna's mouth.

"Any time," she smiled back. "Sherlock," she asked after a few minutes, "who were the people being jerks to you?"

"You know them."

"Anderson and Donavan?"

"Aim for their noses."

"Will do, love," the next time the four of them ran into each other both Anderson and Donavan left with broken noses, Joanna left with a bruised hand, and Sherlock left with a smirk.


	9. Ballet

_**A/N: So this is a balletlock…. I'm not even sure… at this point my writer brain is throwing up and I can't control it. Oh, and football is not American football in this case, its soccer and yeah juggling a soccer ball/football is a thing, I swear it is.**_

John and Mike were bored. Football season had ended so they had nothing to do in their free time, which was why Mrs. Stamford had sent the two of them to pick up Mike's little sister, Olivia, from ballet. John and Mike were too cool to be hanging out at a ballet studio. What if someone from school saw them? They would never be able to live it down. In any case John brought his ball so that he could practice juggling while Mike was inside. At least he wasn't going to be in the building. After about ten minutes a group of roughly twenty people came out of the old wooden double doors, Mike was with his sister who was talking to a rather tall black haired guy. "Your balance is improving but your flexibility isn't. Have you been doing those stretches at home like I showed you?"

"Yes Sherlock," Olivia grumbled.

"Liar," he smirked.

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Jerk," Olivia complained.

"Hey do you want to dance point?"

"Yes,"

"Then work on the exercises."

"Fine," Olivia then caught sight of John. "John!"

The next thing he knew he was being attacked by a nine year old, "Hey, Olivia."

"John, do you know Sherlock?" the little girl asked excitedly. "He's a year bellow you but he's really smart and good at ballet."

"Hi," John said as he was pulled in the direction of the other guy.

"Hey, you look like you have your hands full." Sherlock laughed as he tried to tuck a runaway curl back into its place.

"Yeah," he laughed. "I'm John if you didn't hear from Olivia."

"I'm Sherlock," the other boy said as he picked his duffle back up from the ground. "You're Mike's friend aren't you?"

"Yeah, I kind of got dragged into picking this girl up."

"She is a handful," Sherlock smiled before explaining. "I help teach the younger kids in my spare time."

John laughed. "Are you any good?"

"There is a show tomorrow is you want to find out," Sherlock smirked as he handed John a flyer he had shoved in his bag.

"You know what? I'll be there. I have nothing better to do."

The next night John found himself in the theater with Mike Stamford as his wingman. "John, why are we here?"

"Manly reasons," he joked.

"Like what?"

"I'll tell you when I think of some."

"That's good enough for me," Mike said right before the lights dimmed and the curtains rose.

John honestly had no idea of the plot or who was which character. All he understood was that Sherlock was really good. As soon as the curtain went down and the lights brightened John went on a search for the boy. "Sherlock!" he shouted once he caught sight of the dark messy curls.

"John?" he looked surprised as he walked over to the other boy.

"Hey, um, you were really good," John said as he shuffled around anxiously.

"Thanks," Sherlock blushed. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Yeah, well, I figured I couldn't let you get away with being bad."

"True, that would be careless."

"Do you want to go get coffee or something?" John asked as he nervously scratched the back of his head.

"What about Mike?"

"Oh, he used to being ditched."

"Then I would be glad to get a cup of coffee with you."

_**A/N: hi it's me again! Thank you all so much for reading and liking this! To the person who asked my sister was 11 when she wrote the Two Hearts fic last summer. Also please send me prompts because the next two that will be posted is a femtattoolock and a everyone is on drugs johnlock fic... so save me from writing stupid things and send me ideas.**_


	10. Destroying Sherlock's Wall

_**A/N: This is a post-fall story that I posted on a long time ago as a much shorter fic about a year ago, since then I've taken it and flushed it out. I left it as the original title because I couldn't come up with a better one. Please enjoy!**_

Freak. The Holmes siblings knew the word well. They knew how much it hurt to find that word written on a piece of paper or shouted at you from across a class room. But it hurt the most when it was a whisper that you just barely over heard. Veronica had fought the hardest against the word. She tried to deny everything that her brothers had left in their wake. Every day she had come home from school with a black eye or a fist shaped bruise somewhere. The only thing that changed when she grew up was that the fighting turned verbal, which didn't get her in as much trouble. When she went to Oxford she found a roommate who didn't mind her scars, her deductions, or her crazy brothers. Her name was Savannah.

Savannah was American and her uncle was giving her a full ride because he just had way too much money. That was what she had said to her anyway. Veronica had deduced a different story. Her uncle was in the head of a drug circle in New York City and didn't want his favorite niece to get caught up in everything. So he had paid off the admissions office in order to get her in and had prepaid for eight years of education for her, so she was safe no matter what happened. He hadn't shared any of that with her, so Veronica wouldn't either. She was a little more tactful than her brother.

Her immediately older brother Sherlock and she were the closest. He would take the train to Oxford every few months and the two of them would go get tea at a local café. It was nice and pleasant, but as the years progressed the trips became less frequent and once he gained his blogger they became none existing. She didn't mind too much, she followed John's blog and emailed her eldest brother, Mycroft, from time to time to catch up on what was going on. She never had direct contact with him until almost two years had passed and she was in her fourth year at the college, she was getting a doctorate. It was then that he knocked on the door of the flat that Savannah and her shared.

He was soaking wet and his eyes were red from tears as he stood in their doorway. "Oh Sherlock what happened?" She asked as she pulling her brother into the flat and set him in front of the fireplace.

"Moriarty," was all he could get out before shuddering from the cold.

"Hold on, you need to get your wet clothes off before you can get any warmer, I'll go look to see if I have anything that would fit you," she babbled as before she went to her room to grab some clothes. She returned to see her flat mate pale and her brother talking at a million words a second. "Sherlock what did you say?"

"He talked about my uncle…" Savannah stammered. "About the drugs… he said you knew. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she had prospects of getting into bed with you and didn't want to hurt your feelings," Sherlock explained.

Veronica dropped the clothes she was carrying, "Sherlock. Just because you just went through hell doesn't mean you can take it out on me and Savannah, if you want my help just shut up."

"I doubt you even know what just happened," he sneered.

"Do you really take me as that dumb? Sherlock you came to me, after years of no contact. Something serious must have happened, too serious to involve John. Although judging by the look on your face it did have to do with him and judging by the most recent news scandals involving you it also dealt with your reputation. In addition to that fact the entire internet thinks that you are dead. There for given what you said about Moriarty having to deal with it this is what I understand. You are supposed to be dead, the internet said it was the 'suicide of the fake genius' but we both know that that was Moriarty's doing. Now is the matter of why did you jump. It has to do with John, yes? Yes, I think it does and you did it to protect him. So you ruined your whole reputation and died for John, interesting."

"I forgot how similar to us you were," Sherlock said shaking his head.

"So I'm right?"

"Yes."

"Um excuse me," Savannah said clearing her throat, "Confused flat mate over here. Does anyone care to explain?"

"About what?" Veronica asked.

"Well, first, for how long did you know about my uncle? Was that fucker right about you wanting to sleep with me? Oh, yeah, and what the fuck is going on?"

"I knew about your uncle since we moved in together, yes he was right but I respect you and never brought it up because I don't think you swing that way given your constant being on dates with guys, and this is my brother Sherlock Holmes he is an asshole and he is going to die of pneumonia because apparently jumping off a hospital roof didn't kill him." She explained with her head in her hands so she didn't notice Savannah walk over to where she was standing.

"Veronica Holmes you are a completely oblivious asshole," she then wrapped her in a hug and kissed her square on the mouth, an action which was pared with similar feelings.

"I'm just going to go delete everything I just witnessed," came a groan from in front of the fireplace.

"Oh grow up," his sister said playfully as she tossed him the t shirt and sweat pants.

"These are mine," Sherlock remarked. "When did you get these?"

"When you moved out you left them behind," she shrugged.

"I'm not changing with you two in here," he said pointedly.

"Fine, we'll go to the kitchen and talk," Savannah suggested.

"I need to have words with John about how much he has improved your modesty, it's impressive," Veronica added as she followed the other to the kitchen door.

Only a few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door, "What am I going to do?" Sherlock asked as he walked into the kitchen and sat on the floor his attitude was of a person of a broken man.

"Well," his sister sat down next to him as the other girl made tea. "Moriarty has a web of criminals correct?"

"Yes…"

"Well, if you got the spider, why don't you hunt down the web?"

"I had been thinking along those lines, I just didn't know if it was as good of an idea as I thought."

"It's a great idea, but you're recognizable, you could lay low or…" she trailed off.

"Or what?"

"We could always bleach and cut your hair…."

"Do it."

"Really?"

"Yes, if it'll mean I get to go back to London sooner, do it."

In the morning a different man left the flat, he was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants with trainers and his hair was blonde and cut short. This wasn't Sherlock Holmes any longer.


	11. Boobs And Tattoos

_**A/N: Hello all you lovely people! So this is a femtattoolock, yeah, confusing. The only reason that it's femlock is because bras are annoying and get in the way of seeing tattoos. Also there is a part where Joan gets slashed and Sherlock has to stitch her back together, it's not very descriptive. There also is minor character death. Don't hurt me. P.S. blame my girlfriend for the title.**_

It was the hottest day of the past five years in London. Sherlock was running around the city, as usual, while Joan lay on the floor of the flat in a sports bra and cut off shorts with a box fan in the window. Around three in the afternoon she heard a slam of the door and footsteps up the stairs. "Hey, Sherlock," she called back to the kitchen as she continued to type up the latest blog entry.

"Hey Joan," said a rather cheerful version of her flat mate's voice.

That sparked her interest enough for her to get up and walk over to where the other who was making tea. "Ice tea helps beat the heat," she offered.

"Ice tea is for the weak," Sherlock chuckled.

"So, who died that made you so happy?" Joan smiled taking a sip of her soda that had gone room temperature in the past few minutes.

"Oh, I just came back from the perplexing home with the copper beeches and I have a few ideas as to the goings on," Sherlock started to babble while looking intently at her tea.

"Care to share?" she asked noting that Sherlock was avoiding looking at her.

"I want you to figure it out."

"It's too hot to think today," she walked over to the fridge to see if the other would go out of her way not to look at her, she did. "Sherlock this needs to be cleaned out."

"It really doesn't," she argued back with a little bit less vigor than normal.

Joan sighed and leaned against the counter, "Sherlock do I need to go put on a shirt?"

"No," she said defensively, "Maybe."

"You are such a child," Joan grumbled as she headed up to her room to grab one of her tank tops. When she came back down Sherlock had moved to the sofa and had Joan's laptop in her lap, "Better?"

"Yeah, hey I'm sorry. Just, your tattoos were distracting to my mental process," she blushed a deep crimson.

"Wait, what? My tattoos hurt your mental process? Sherlock, you saw two medium sized tattoos, that shouldn't be very distracting," Joan said confused. "And give me my laptop back." 

"I'm confiscating it for your own good, really Joan there are better things to read on the internet. Yes your tattoos are distracting because it is part of you and I know they have a meaning because why wouldn't they, you wouldn't put something that wasn't meaningful permanently on your body. Would you?"

"Well, no," she said sitting down on the couch next to Sherlock.

"Could you tell me about them?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Buy me a drink first, darling," Joan winked.

Sherlock groaned before standing up and slamming the door to her room behind her.

A few weeks later some murderer they had been chasing gave her a pretty nasty cut. "Sherlock, get the first aid kit from the bathroom," Joan sputtered as she collapsed in her chair by the fireplace.

"You should have gone to the hospital," Sherlock yelled from the bathroom.

"They would just do the same thing I we can, but for money," she said trying to pull her sweater off but her shoulder started to throb.

"Hey, I got you," Sherlock comforted taking the hem of the sweater out of the others hands and pulled it up and over her head.

"You know how to sow right?"

"Yeah," she said warily.

"Could you stitch me back together?"

"Yeah," Sherlock put some alcohol on the gash before threading a needle and starting to stitch Joan. "Relax," she said once she saw that Joan was clenching her hands so tightly that she was cutting her palm.

"That's not the easiest thing to do."

"Well then talk about something," she suggested.

"Like what?"

"Tattoos…?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I like to keep you guessing," she smirked. "Which ones did you see?"

"The one over your bullet wound and half of the one on your side. There was that pesky sports bra in the way." She said mindlessly as she tied of the string.

"Thank you," Joan muttered tiredly.

"Are you going to sleep there for the night?" Sherlock asked motioning to the chair.

"I think I might move to the sofa," Joan smiled.

Sherlock picked up her violin and played for Joan till she slipped into sleep/.

On and off for the next few months Sherlock would bring the tattoos up and Joan would shrug the questions off and Sherlock would groan and storm off. It wasn't until the winter that she got anywhere. Sherlock had gotten back to the flat to find Joan curled up in front of the fire with her computer and wrapped up in at least two blankets. "You okay?" she asked concerned.

"Yeah, um I'm okay," she said wiping her eyes.

Sherlock dropped her bag on the couch, "I might only know a small amount about being human," she said wrapping her arms around Joan. "But you don't look okay."

"I know," she started to cry again.

"Sh," she comforted. "What's wrong?"

"Michelle Stamford is dead. She died of a heart attack earlier today. They didn't get her to the hospital soon enough," Joan sobbed.

"Oh my god," Sherlock held her closer. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Joan said wiping her eyes. "But come on, I want to show you something." She pulled Sherlock up stairs and to her room where she pulled off her sweater. "When I came back to England my therapist suggested a coping mechanism if I was up to the pain," she continued as she unbuttoned her shit. "He talked about how I could tattoo over my scar so that it would become something beautiful and not just a hurtful reminder." She slipped her bra strap off of her left shoulder to show a black and white rose that curled it's was around and behind her shoulder so that both the enter and the exit wounds were covered.

"It's beautiful," Sherlock mumbled as she traced over the flower.

Against her better instincts, Joan melted into the touch.

"What are the others?" she asked gently.

"The one on my side that you saw part of," she said pointing to it. Sherlock moved to see it properly. "It's the Royal Army Medical Crest; my father got me interested in army and my mother the medical field.

"It's beautiful," she murmured tracing the tattoo in an attempt to memorize it. Her artist had done a brilliant job giving the black and white tattoos depth and intricacy.

"There's more…" Joan said trailing off.

"Where?" she could only think of a few places that she could still be covering.

Joan undid her jeans and slid them down just enough so that Sherlock could see her hips and the eight little bullets that rested on them. Sherlock resisted the urge to touch them, she did understand some boundaries. Joan took a deep breath before explaining, "They are fore each person I knew that died in Afghan."

She knew better than to ask.

"Most people that see them just think that it's to remind me of my time in Afghan."

"Most people are idiots," she shrugged.

"I have one more," she sighed as she pulled up her jeans and redid the button. "I'm not sure if you'll like it."

"Who's it for?"

"You," Joan said before she turned around to show Sherlock her back were, right above her bra strap, there was a medium sized scull.

"I," was all Sherlock was able to get out.

"It was a few months after you left- I thought you were gone forever and it just hurt so much and I'm just so sorry I had to cope," Joan kept babbling but Sherlock had tuned her out. Joan had given Sherlock a part of herself, but why? The obvious answer was that it was because she cared greatly about her. But why? Sherlock was an asshole; she knew that, she had always known that.

"Joan, come here," Sherlock said as she grabbed the other's waist and spun her around. "Why would I be upset? I left my best friend alone thinking I was dead and she dealt with it how she knew too. It's beautiful."

"Thank you," Joan murmured into the other girl's shoulder.

"Any time."

Joan looked up into the other girl's eyes and made up her mind right then and there. She tilted her head up and kissed Sherlock Holmes and the crazy think was, Sherlock kissed her back.


	12. Boxes

_**A/N: This is a teen!lock in which Sherlock's family moves so John helps Sherlock unpack and fluff happens. This started as a way for me to work through relationship insecurities and to put it into words for my girlfriend. So I guess this is sort of for her… Alexis I love you a hella ton 3**_

John kicked off his shoes as he climbed into the bed, "Redbeard, come here, come here boy." He said patting the blanket next to him trying to get his boyfriend's dog to climb onto the bed next to him.

"Stop encouraging him," Sherlock laughed as he climbed onto the bed next to John.

Redbeard climbed onto the bed at long last and started licking John's face, "you love me don't you, you'll kiss me."

Sherlock chuckled as he wrapped his arms around the blonde boy's waist and rested his chin on John's shoulder, "I do kiss you."

"But you don't kiss me in public like your wonderful dog here," John said trying to give all of his attention to the dog.

Sherlock stared at Redbeard like he wanted him to evaporate. John turned around, sat up, and was distracted as Sherlock rubbed his eyes with his slender and pale hands. John grabbed the other boy's wrist before leaning over and kissing him squared on the lips. Sherlock leaned back until their lips separated. John curled up into a ball, his brain was going a million miles an hour yelling at him about how stupid that was, anyone could have walked in, and anyway Sherlock leaned back, maybe he hadn't liked it, maybe he hadn't liked him, so many things ran around his head.

"John, John are you okay?" Sherlock said trying to pull John's hands down from his face.

"I, no," he said trying to bury his face into Sherlock's shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"You're the genius, you figure it out."

Sherlock gave it a little bit of thought before saying. "Oh, okay," realization dawning on his face.

"What?"

"Come here," he said pulling John into his lap.

"What are you," John was cut off with a short kiss on his cheek as Sherlock began peppering him with kisses, "oh." John was stunned for a few seconds before he caught on and started responding. He placed his hands on Sherlock's waist and began kissing him back. After a few minutes Redbeard decided he wasn't getting enough attention so he wormed his way between them.

"You're a bully of a dog you know that," John laughed as he scratched the old dogs head.

Sherlock leaned back on his pillows with a flop while huffing, "Cock block."

John laughed, "He's an acceptable one."

Sherlock raised his hand and pointed at the roof, "no cock block is a good cock block."

John smiled and leaned over the dog towards Sherlock. "He's alright," he said as he kissed the younger guy once more.

"Whatever you say," Sherlock smiled as he kissed him back.

"Good."

"You're staying over tonight, right?" Sherlock asked as he ran his hand through John's short hair.

"Um, yeah, that's a most definite possibility."

"Good," Sherlock smirked as he climbed out from under John and went to the door.

"Where are you going?" John practically whimpered.

"Are you hungry?"

"A bit."

"Good, I'll be back," he said as he left. He came back with two slices of pizza in his hand. "Here, you haven't eaten since noon."

"What time is it?" John asked with a mouth full of pizza.

"It's around eight."

The next few minutes passed in silence as they ate. Around half an hour later the two of them were sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed where John was helping Sherlock unpack the boxes that littered his new room in his family's new house. "Sherlock, how do you have so much shit?"

"I have no idea. It just sort of happened," the curly haired boy stated waving his hand gesturing at all the various boxes.

"Did you organize these in anyway?" John asked as he pulled shirts, papers, and his boyfriend's skull all out of the same box.

"Yeah," Sherlock chuckled. "These all go in my room."

"Well that works," John muttered "Oh my God, you still have these!" John exclaimed as he held up a pair of red underpants.

"I," Sherlock blushed a deep red.

"I thought you had thrown them away…" John trailed off as he threw it onto to a pile of clothes they were creating.

"Well, I, why would I do that?" the curly haired guy asked.

"It was a gag gift. I mean I got you them because you seemed to have a thing for mine."

Sherlock slid over the box he was digging through and climbed into John's lap for a change. "I like them," he whispered into John's ear before nipping at it and kissing john's chin and neck.

"Uh, really," John stammered majorly distracted.

"Mhm," Sherlock hummed in John's mouth. "I could show you sometime how great they are."

"Um, I, well," John continued stammering.

"You're really cute when you're flustered."

"I totally am not," he stated before glaring at the younger guy.

"So cute," Sherlock hummed as he ran his hands under John's shirt and started tracing patterns on the older boy's chest.

John begun angrily messing with the buttons on the brunette's shirt.

Sherlock hummed, "Do you want me to help you with that?"

"I can handle it," John smiled as he slowly unbuttoned the other's shirt, kissing his shoulder as he did.

"You're taking really long," Sherlock groaned.

"I know," Sherlock could feel John smile against him.

"You are ridiculous."

"I've been told."

Sherlock finally got fed up and just took his own shirt off and then grabbed the hem off of John's shirt and pulled it over his head. "There, now would you like to move this to a more comfortable spot?"

"If you close the door," John countered.

Sherlock jumped up and closed his bedroom door while John got up and laid down onto Sherlock's bed. The younger man walked over and straddled the blonde's waist and began kissing his shoulder and chest. John closed his eyes and leaned his head back against a pillow as Sherlock told him. "I love you, you know?"

John smiled, "I do."

"Hmm," Sherlock hummed.

John chuckled, "I love you too."

"Good."


End file.
